Page 443 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

He nodded serenely. ‘Bueno,’ he said. ‘There is no answer.’
Then, in his quiet, kindly way, he engaged in a cautious
conversation with the man, who was willing to talk cheer-
ily, as if something lucky had happened to him recently. He
had seen from a distance Sotillo’s infantry camped along
the shore of the harbour on each side of the Custom House.
They had done no damage to the buildings. The foreigners
of the railway remained shut up within the yards. They were
no longer anxious to shoot poor people. He cursed the for-
eigners; then he reported Montero’s entry and the rumours
of the town. The poor were going to be made rich now. That
was very good. More he did not know, and, breaking into
propitiatory smiles, he intimated that he was hungry and
thirsty. The old major directed him to go to the alcalde of
the first village. The man rode off, and Don Pepe, striding
slowly in the direction of a little wooden belfry, looked over
a hedge into a little garden, and saw Father Roman sitting in
a white hammock slung between two orange trees in front
of the presbytery.
An enormous tamarind shaded with its dark foliage the
whole white framehouse. A young Indian girl with long
hair, big eyes, and small hands and feet, carried out a wood-
en chair, while a thin old woman, crabbed and vigilant,
watched her all the time from the verandah.
Don Pepe sat down in the chair and lighted a cigar; the
priest drew in an immense quantity of snuff out of the hol-
low of his palm. On his reddish-brown face, worn, hollowed
as if crumbled, the eyes, fresh and candid, sparkled like two
black diamonds.

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard